


Pinned to the Depth

by raiyuki76



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Death, Drowning, Spoilers for Ep4, fate touched
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 06:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13781751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyuki76/pseuds/raiyuki76
Summary: Fjord knows how to survive on the open ocean. He's been doing it his whole life. You always pack enough food and water, you don't start fights if you don't know for sure that you can finish them, and you have to know how to swim, or at the very least, know how to not drown. But sometimes, fate will use what tools are available to it.Meaning that I have an unhealthy obsession with drowning and I couldn't pass up this opportunity.





	Pinned to the Depth

Fjord was falling. He was falling, but he wasn't afraid. Even as his grasp slipped, nails tearing painfully a the dark wood of the ship, he didn't panic. You can't panic, because that's how you die. 

He knew how not to drown. He was a good swimmer, and could hold his breath for plenty of time. He'd have to swim away from the sinking ship, if he didn't want to get caught in its rubble. And most importantly, he would keep calm.

He only had a few seconds before he would hit the frothing sea water below him, but it was just enough time to prepare as he twisted his body, bringing his feet together and straight below him to break the impact. Diving into the ocean never hurt before, but as the water smoothly enveloped him, he felt cuts sting all over his face and body. He hadn't even realized he had been hurt, but he definitely felt it now. He opened his eyes, needing to see a safe route through the rubble as it sank around him. It burned as the salt water touched them, but he kept them open, seeing only the giant expanse of blue that surrounded him and the sinking ship.

But then, suddenly, before he had barely swam a body length away, something heavy fell onto him from above. The field of blue suddenly turned white and the smooth feeling of the water against his skin turned rough as the canvas sail cascaded around him, pulling him down. 

The sail was heavy, and he could feel himself sinking as he pushed at the abrasive fabric, clawing his way out. Bubbles of air escaped from his nose, forcing the water that tried to enter it out as he fought his prison. A tiny seed of desperation hit his heart, but he quelled it quickly. He can't afford to panic. He wasn't ready to die yet. 

It took several seconds of struggling, of precious air, but he finally found freedom. Swirls of white and green opened suddenly to blue. He pushed out of the fabric prison and looked out at the mess that had been his home for so long. Splinters of wood filled the space as metal scraps sunk quickly into the deep blue depth below. Shadows that appeared to be humanoid thrashed in the water far above, and he hoped desperately that they would survive too. He began to pull, to swim away from the dark shadow above him that was the body of the ship. He was still directly below it, and that was dangerous.

Perhaps fate heard his thoughts. A crash of bubbles exploded above him as something large and heavy slid off the edge of what was still above the water. It sank quickly, looming above him as he tried to turn and swim away. The hard impact knocked far too much air from his lungs as rough iron scraped against his already sore skin. And he began to sink faster, his chest tightening in pain as his lungs demanded air.

Water rushed around him as he twisted around to look at the wrought iron door to the brigg that had pinned him to the depth. A hint of panic began to seep into his heart. The light from the surface above was fading faster then before, and more bubbles were erupting from his nose as he fought to free himself. He focused though and got his heart under control as he pushed and kicked at the metal door. He almost crawled along its form, feet digging into the metal bars as he tried desperately to push himself, and it, upright. One end finally dipped, bringing the metal prison to an upright, more hydrodynamic position. It began to sink faster, and he saw his escape, directly above him. He pushed against the metal, but still felt resistance. His billowy sailors shirt had got caught in a groove where metal met metal. He pushed harder, and felt it rip. The shirt pulled heavily against his throat, releasing more bubbles of air as his lips loosened for a mere second. But the shirt ripped free, and the metal sank quickly from sight. 

The surface seemed so far away. The blobs of shadows above teased him as he kicked and struggled to reach it. His vision was narrowing as black creeped into the corners of his blue world. The pain of salt in his wounds disappeared as all he could feel was the tight, tense pain as his air was running out. He was still too far away. 

The hint of panic that he had felt earlier was gone, replaced with a numb desperation. He could see the finish line, right above him. But his kicking slowed, his body becoming sluggish, despite the painful need in his lungs. He didn't want to die. But what could he do?

He hadn't yet accepted his death when his body decided for him. He gave it no command, knowing he was still so far from the surface, but it acted as it saw fit. His air ran out, so his body chose to breath. 

It happened in a flash as his mouth opening and inhaled deeply. The burn of saltwater filled his lungs, shocking him temporarily out of the stupor he had found himself in. It hurt as he felt himself choke on the water that was not supposed to be there. But then, the pain faded. Quickly at first, to a dull throb, before fading slowly out of feeling. 

His mind was foggy again as he looked at the light above him, body falling still as the waters pushed him to and fro. Shapes and shadows sank quickly around him but he found that he couldn't focus on them. He couldn't even focus on his death. 

Only one thought entered his mind as his eyes tried to determine what the swirling shadows coming up from the depth below him were. 

He had done everything right. Everything that you could do. And yet... he still drowned. And then his vision faded, and darkness took him as the water swirled around his body like a noose. 

The darkness filled his senses, but for a split moment, right at the end, there was a vague flash of light. A bright yellow light.

…................................................................................................................................................................

Fjord woke up suddenly as pain wrought his chest. He turned quickly, coughing violently and spitting up what seemed like endless water. His throat and chest burned as it spilled from his mouth, falling onto already wet sand. The pain did not recede, and he found that coughing didn't help. After several seconds and no more water coming up from his lungs, he turned and looked at his surroundings.

He was on a beach, with a far to bright sun above his head. His cloths were torn and his boots were gone, but he was alone. The ocean was calm, but he didn't feel the same sense of affection for it as he looked at its bright blue waves. 

Wait... There was something in the waves. Fjord struggled to stand, his body weak and still thoroughly in pain. His head spun, but he forced it to focus as he looked at the strange object on the edge of the water. 

It was a sword. A falchion from the looks of it. He only had a second to acknowledge this before memories flooded his mind. His ship had sunk. And he had drowned. Then a dull flash of yellow light. He lost his balance and fell back onto his butt and his mind reeled. He found himself coughing again, the pain in his chest still present. The coughing still did not help. 

He opened his eyes again, looking at the sword that had, for some reason, reminded him of his fate. It seemed simple enough, though of good make. It also seemed just as waterlogged as he was. He felt drawn to it.

His hand slowly reached out, hesitant for some reason. But then, he took the hilt in his hand, and it felt right. Like it was made for him. The pain in his chest faded as he drew the blade, feeling the balance and weight in his hand. He swung it experimentally and felt a strange surge of power. But it didn't come from the blade. It came from him. 

A voice suddenly creeped into his mind, rough but quiet. “Go... Grow...”. He dropped the blade quickly, looking suddenly around for any source that the voice could have come from, but there was only silence. 

Fjord breathed deeply, suddenly aware that the pain in his chest was gone, though he still felt sore and dizzy. He must have imagined it, right?

He looked down the coast and far off in the distance, he saw a familiar lighthouse. It was the lighthouse of Port Damali. Confusion hit him as he tried to remember where they had been last. Surely it was tens of miles away. How did he end up here? He glanced cautiously at the fallen sword at his feet. 

It was probably just a normal sword... A good sword. And as for how he survived, well, he would probably never know. 

“Best not to think to hard about it,” he muttered coarsely under his breath, his voice sounding as rough as he felt. He struggled to his feet again, then looked back down at the blade in the sand.

“Can't hurt any,” he said as he reached down and plucked it up, sheathing it once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first posted fic to this site. I would love to hear what you think of it, especially constructive criticism! Also, I had a lot of trouble finding Beta Readers, so if there are any that would be willing to beta my future works, I'd love to hear from you! I hope you enjoy it!


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